Judgemental
by ForgeUpwards
Summary: My father is gone...but is he really? I am Lovella Riddle. Years ago, Harry Potter had his own story to tell...and I have mine. I am going to find the truth, the truth of my birth and my exsistence. I have no choice. I have to know, once and for all.
1. The Hearing

**This is a lot like a test-story. I've wanted to do a Harry Potter fic for a long time. If people like this story, review and let me know, and I'll post a much longer chapter next time.**

Is it too much to be judged for who _I_ am…and not who my parents were? Judging by the cold gaze of the severe woman gazing at me, I assumed that it was impossible.

The view seemed to be shared by everyone in the room; they all gazed down at me, and it went further then dislike. It was outright loathing and hatred that I viewed on their features. I had seen the look throughout my entire life – I knew.

"Lovella…Riddle." The woman's lip curled as she read off my name. "You want to…"

She came to a halt, as though unable to put my request into words. I supplied them. "I want to come to Hogwarts – I want to be a student there."

The entire congregation of witches and wizards shifted uncomfortably. I felt like shouting them down, but my gorgeous face remained impassive. It had been less then eleven years since Voldemort – my father, it had to be admitted – had been killed in a duel with Harry James Potter. It hadn't made the Wizarding community like me any more. All had been shocked to discover my existence several years after my father's murder. The shock obviously hadn't worn off yet.

"Why?" I managed to meet the fierce woman's gaze – her speckled eyes were somewhat daunting. I tried not to flinch away. This woman hated me.

"To be with people my age and to learn about magic." My answer was simple enough, but it made the witches and wizards group in the tiny room uneasy.

My gaze swept around the assembly. I recognized a few of them – Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic; Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter's good friend and professor of Herbology; Hermione Granger, of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement; Ron Weasley, an Auror; and Harry James Potter himself, head of the Auror Department, killer of Lord Voldemort. His green eyes pierced me, and I could barely look away from his scar – the lightning bolt that my own father had placed there.

I figured that Harry's expression, most of all, would scorch me, accuse me and burn me. But it didn't; his eyes were calm despite the fact that the daughter of his most-loathed enemy stood before him.

"Headmistress," Harry murmured, when Minerva McGonagall opened her mouth again. She turned to look at him, and I saw respect and even affection in her harsh eyes.

Harry stood, a small smile on his face. "Voldemort," he began, "is gone. He did wrong; all of us here can appreciate that. I think we can all acknowledge the fact that he deserved to die." I did not wince, despite the fact that Harry was talking of my own father. He was right, after all. "However," Harry continued, "if we allow ourselves to persecute Voldemort's daughter, who can help her heritage no more then I, then we will have become just like him, in his maltreatment of Muggles, who also could not help their heritage."

Harry sat down again, and I saw Hermione give him a little smile. Her husband, Ron, didn't look so pleased, but there was nothing he could say; he knew his friend was right.

"Are we to accept her then?" Professor Longbottom asked. "I agree with Harry, and I have to get back to Hogwarts; the Mandrakes need tending."

A small chuckle rippled throughout the room. Minerva didn't relax right away; but eventually her clenched muscles and hard mouth loosened. She sighed and leaned back. "Very well. Then, Lovella Riddle, you will be given a list of your school things…if that is agreeable?"

I smiled at her. "Thank you, Headmistress."

McGonagall sighed. "Yes, yes, now away with all of you. Kingsley, if we may discuss?" The Minister of Magic turned his head towards the old woman, and the rest of the wizards and witches filed out.

I stood in one of the many corridors of the Ministry of Magic, savoring my success. I was just eleven, and when I had not received a letter from Hogwarts, despite my magical skills, I had been angry and disappointed. So _I_ had come to _them,_ demanding my entrance. And, wonders upon wonders, they had agreed.

"Lovella." My caretaker, an old witch by the name of Janice, approached me, looking nervous. She put one arm around my shoulder and smiled tenderly at me. I smiled back; I liked her shoulder there, it made me feel safe. "Did they let you in?"

Janice had been as outraged as I when my letter had not come a week earlier. She was the one who had set up the meeting at the Ministry.

I was glad to have good news for her. "Yes, they let me in," I said, giving a little hop-skip. A hand tapped my shoulder. I turned to find Harry standing there, a letter in his hand.

"Your list of school things, Lovella," he said, handing it to me. I took it reverently. "If you need help buying anything…" he began, but I forestalled him.

"Bellatrix Lestrange _does_ have a very impressive vault," I said, a small smile playing at my lips. I had intended to make a joke, and it worked – Harry knew only full well the contents of Bellatrix's vault, having stolen from it several years before. Not that I had ever _seen_ the vault which I took money from – the vault that Bellatrix had left for Voldemort's daughter – I had never seen Gringotts, after all.

"That she does," he agreed with a chuckle. "I'll go then; Ginny is probably at her wit's end with our two boys."

Janice forestalled him. "I had heard about the birth of your second son, Mr. Potter. Congratulations."

"Thank you," Harry said, pride evident in his voice. Suddenly the enthusiastic father, he pulled an awfully dilapidated wallet out of his pocket and pulled out two pictures. One showed a toddler zooming around on a toy broom, his black hair blowing back and his amber eyes laughing. The other showed a baby boy, waving fat fists at the camera, his green eyes wide and just a shock of black hair starting to sprout on his bare head.

I sidled away as Janice poured over the pictures. I walked down the hallway, my eyes stretched wide with wonder at everything. I wasn't supposed to leave Janice's side, but I was too entranced. I had spent most of my life locked away in Janice's old house, her fear for me making it almost impossible that I be let outside. Most Aurors would be only too pleased to kill me, I was sure.

So it was in amazement as I watched paper messages flap past, darting down the hallways, and to see workers pass here and there, some absorbed by papers and the like, others merely staring at me curiously as I passed – most didn't really recognize me, so I smiled at them bravely, and they smiled back.

I was wandering along, quite aimlessly, just content to search out the labyrinth of the Ministry, when I collided with something large – and solid.

Skinny and frail as I was, I was knocked down to the floor, landing with an ungainly _oof._ I looked up, about to tell the loitering person _exactly_ what I thought about them. I didn't expect him to be so close.

"Whoa, sorry about that. You okay?" A hand reached into my vision and I grabbed it, allowing the boy to haul me upright. I dusted myself off and opened my mouth. My first real sight of the boy's face made me speechless.

His hair was glowing silver, not like an old man's, but like moonbeams. He was tanned and his face was beautifully angled, looking as though it had been made by a master sculptor.

He was the first to speak again, a small grin spreading across his face. "Enchante, mademoiselle. I am Louis Weasley. What's your name?" He stuck out his hand, and I took it timidly, shaking it this time. He looked to be about my age, now that I could look at him properly, which astounded me all the more. He was much more sophisticated then me – of course, he hadn't spent his life shut away in a hovel, but few people had, probably.

I winced, knowing that his question would probably send him scurrying away from me. "Lovella Riddle."

His eyes were calm though, and he was smiling again; it took my breath away. "No, seriously? Wow, so _you're_ the reason my uncle toe-dragged me in here this morning." I bristled slightly at his tone, but he was laughing.

"Relax, I was just kidding. I actually came to get my stuff from Diagon Alley. My mum and sisters are on an extended vacation in Paris, and since I didn't feel like heading to Egypt with my dad, I hung around here."

"You're Bill and Fluer Weasley's son?" I guessed.

"Of course; you've heard of me, I see! After all, I _am_ quite famous." Much to my surprise, he slung an arm over my shoulder and towed me away. "Well, more Uncle Ron then me, but still. Come on, let's head to Diagon Alley."

I frowned. "I'm supposed to wait for my aunt." I had been calling Janice my "auntie" for years. It just made things less complicated, and she was probably the only witch or wizard on the earth besides me unafraid to claim that she was Voldemort's kin – and she wasn't actually his kin.

He laughed. "Apparently, but you didn't, so you might as well come with _me_ now." So I slogged on behind him, unable to break his grip and not really wanting to; I had never hung out with a wizard my own age, or seen Diagon Alley. Suddenly, the importance of keeping Janice with me all the time wasn't so important anymore. I couldn't even remember _why_ I should.

I'm not sure how Louis managed to do it, but somehow he got us out of the labyrinth and onto the crowded London streets. I gazed around in shock at the heavily swarming streets. I was positive that I had never seen so many people in one place. Even the Ministry was dwarfed in comparison.

I could tell that Louis was watching me carefully. "How often do you get outside?" he asked, grabbing my shoulder as we darted out into traffic.

"Not much," I admitted on the other side. He continued his relentless pace to the substation Janice and I had used to get to the Ministry. "I used to go out more when I was little, but before today, I hadn't been outside in…three years, I think."

He just shook his head as he paid for our tickets. I had never seen Muggle money before either. I stared at the flimsy piece of paper Louis called a one-dollar bill all the way to the corner that held the Leaky Cauldron.

He pulled me off the subway and out into the daylight. I tried to hand him his money back, but he shook his head. "Keep it," he chuckled. Then he pulled me into the Leaky Cauldron.

Hannah Abbott, the landlady, broke off in mid-greeting to Louis when she spotted me. She clutched the dishtowel she was holding and gulped before twirling around on high heels and clacking quickly away. Louis didn't even seem to notice; he pushed me through the dim bar out into a messy courtyard. He pulled a wand out of his bag.

"I'll be a second year," he explained when he saw my wide eyes. He began tapping on the bricks, in no order that I could easily spot. "You know we're not supposed to use magic out of school, but this is more like a conformation that you're a wizard. Don't want any Muggles stumbling into Diagon Alley by mistake; of course, they'd just think they'd gone insane." That made me laugh quietly.

The brick wall seemed to melt away, and before us stood Diagon Alley. Gringotts towered above it all, its white marble easily offsetting the cobbled streets. Witches and wizards bustled everywhere, not bothering to look at the two new arrivals as they rushed about their business.

"This is incredible," I breathed. Louis grinned. I gawked at the shops as we passed; I had no idea where Louis was taking me, and I didn't particularly care. It was enough to be staring at the packed streets, watching everyone bustle around me as though each and every one had a purpose that I couldn't begin to ascertain. Louis began pointing out shops that lined the cobble streets.

"Madame Malkin's – best robes anywhere. Oh, look, there's the Quidditch Supply Store – Father gave me money, I have to stop there and pick up a new pair of Keeper's gloves. Ice cream shop – it doesn't have a name anymore, used to belong to an old bloke that went missing – " here, Louis paused. "Before," he finished lamely.

"You can say it," I said bitterly, looking across the street towards the ice cream shop. "My father was the worst – that doesn't even begin to cover it – and I know it."

Louis seemed to shift awkwardly. "Yeah, but it was rude for me to say so."

"You didn't," I said, flashing a grin. There was an awkward moment of silence. Though I had forgiven him, Louis still felt awkward.

"Come on," he said suddenly, grabbing me by my arm. I gasped as he dragged me into the Quidditch store. I had never seen so many brooms in my life. Janice had taught me how to fly on one old Cleansweep, but it wasn't the same as _these_. These brooms were elegant, top-of-the-line, and built for speed.

Louis grinned at me, his wild smile making me confused. "I'm going to get you a present," he declared, and pulled me up to the counter.


	2. Sorting Surprise

**Here is Chapter 2, up at last. I really am sorry it took so long. Okay, a few things before I start getting notices and complaints. **

**1. This story does not actually follow the exact timeline of J.K Rowling's epilogue and I'm sorry about that. I didn't notice until later. Unfortunately, I had to mix some of the ages and events up, or I could have never formatted it to this story. **

**2. Don't complain to me about the Sorting Hat's song. It's terrible, I know, but I'm no poet/songwriter.**

**3. This part is boring. I know it. I was bored writing it. But ground work is necessary, unfortunately, so we all just have to deal for the moment. **

The man at the counter nearly had a heart attack at the sight of me. I wanted nothing more then to bury my face in my hands and forget my own self in that moment. Meeting people for the first time was the bane of my existence.

"L-Louis!" Obviously the poor man had decided to ignore me. I couldn't blame him. "What can I do for you today?"

"I need a new pair of Keeper's gloves – and I wanted to get my friend here a broom."

I nearly gagged on my own tongue. Louis and I had just met! My father had killed his uncle! And here he was, grinning down at me as though he were Santa Claus himself, insisting on buying me a broom!

"Louis, you can't!" I whispered as the man hurried to the back room.

He laughed. "Sure I can. I've got enough money – the entire Weasley family has more money then we know what to do with now – and you seem…how should I put this? You've never been given a present in your life, have you?"

I bristled at the thought. "Of course I have!" Then I faltered. "I mean…Janice tries her best…and we get by fairly well. And I have money."

"Not much, obviously," Louis commented with a small smirk.

"No, not much. Most of it belongs to Gringotts or the Ministry, after Bellatrix…did what she did. But I have some."

"Yeah, my dad's told me about that money. He works for Gringotts, you know. Apparently most of it is in old goblets and rings with the Lestrange crest on it that no one wants to buy."

That stung, because it was true. Janice had spent much of my life looking up different hexes and cleaning spells to charm off the Lestrange crest so I could sell the goblets and rings.

The manager crept back into the front of the store, two packages in his hand; one bulky but small, the other long, thin, and straight, but empty. Without looking at me, the shopkeeper handed Louis his Keeper's gloves and muttered, "Miss Riddle will want to choose her broom, I suppose?"

"No, I'll choose it," Louis volunteered. "Lovella knows nothing about brooms." Slight hurt but bowing to Louis's experience, I watched as the shopkeeper handed Louis the broom handbook. Louis skimmed through it, looking through the dozens of models. Occasionally he would nod and say, "Uh huh," but otherwise he kept his thoughts to himself. I thought I was going to go insane. I had never met a more infuriating person.

"Here!" Louis exclaimed at last. I glanced over his shoulder. He was at the back of the book, enthusiastically pointing to a broom that I had never seen before. It was labeled "The Eclipse."

"Brand-new," Louis told me as the shopkeeper slouched off to retrieve the broom. "Better for beginners, got an Unbreakable Braking Charm, along with a slight tail drag, it'll slow you up if you need it to. But it still had excellent speed; 0 to 90 in five point six seconds."

The shopkeeper placed the wrapped package on the counter, and Louis quickly dolled out his money. I was relieved that he didn't seem to pay too much for the Eclipse, though the shopkeeper slid the money away before I could properly count it.

Louis pulled me back out of the shop. I jiggled the broom package under his nose. "Thank you, but what am I supposed to do with this? First years aren't allowed brooms, it's on the letter. And somehow I doubt I'm a Quidditch star."

I pulled out the Hogwart's letter that Potter had handed me only an hour previously and flashed it under Louis's nose. He grinned.

"Well, keep it at home until next year then. Of course, if you _want_ to smuggle it in, I can help you there."

I was intrigued by the idea, but Janice had always hammered one thing into me; _follow the rules._ If I did, no one would have any reason to distrust me.

"No, no way." I shook my head like a dog ridding itself of water, my raven hair fanning out around me.

"Okay then, but it would have been fun." I was dragged everywhere that day; next Gringotts, to get what little actual money there was in my vault; then Madame Malkin's, for robes, the Apothecary for a potion set, a store for a used cauldron, and many other Wizarding supplies as well. Finally, we halted outside Ollivander's.

"He reopened his shop?" I said, slightly surprised. The last I had heard of Ollivander when I was four or so was that he was still recovering from his incarceration and torture at my father's hands.

"Only about two years ago," Louis said, leading me inside. The place was murky and badly-lit. I glanced around, and Ollivander seemed to appear out of nowhere. At the sight of me, he flinched.

"She needs a wand. She hasn't come here to murder you," Louis said gruffly, his voice coming from behind me.

"I know just the wand," Ollivander rasped. His walk was shuffled and slow but virtually silent as he hurried down the rows, finally pulling a thin box down from the shelves.

"Here," he breathed, thrusting it at me. I pulled it out of its case. Warmth shot through my fingers and sparks erupted from the tip of the wand, colored like a rainbow. They were warm and I was instinctively drawn to the spot where they had vanished. I was shocked that my wand had chosen me so quickly.

"I knew it," Ollivander whispered, scrutinizing me. "Yew, and unicorn tail hair. Twelve and a half inches. Your father had a similar wand; though, of course, no witch or wizard knows where the Dark Lord's wand actually vanished to, nor the phoenix that made his first wand. I made this knowing that one day you would come seeking a wand from me, Miss Riddle."

"How did you know?" I asked, watching his face. It was unreadable.

"I knew the Dark Lord," he said simply. "I knew his style. You, as his daughter, should echo it. And indeed you do."

My hands shook. "I'm not a killer!" I snapped. "I want nothing to do with my father, or my mother, whoever she is."

"Yes, I'm sure. However, the past has a nasty habit of showing up in the present, unwelcome though it is."

Grabbing twelve Galleons out of my money bag, I threw them onto the ground at Ollivander's feet. I ran out of the store without taking the box for my wand, trying to stop my lip from quivering. What did the old man know? He meant nothing, nothing at all.

Filled with loathing for my wand, for myself, and my father, I deserted Louis and fled back through Diagon Alley, attracting more notice now, as I was half-sprinting through the alarmed witches and wizards.

Suddenly, I felt myself falling. Gasping, I twisted so as not to land on my face. Someone had grabbed my legs and they held on as I pummeled them continually, smashing against their face, pinching their arms, anything I could reach…

"Ouch! Damn it, Lovella, cut it out!"

I sat up quickly; Louis has come after me and caught me in a flying tackle. He disentangled himself from me, rubbing his jaw, with had cuts on it. One of his teeth had been knocked loose.

"Louis – I'm sorry," I whispered. I pointed my wand at him; for a moment, his eyes widened in terror, but then without uttering a word on my part, his tooth buried its way back into his gums, and the bleeding staunched itself.

"How did you do that?" he asked, sitting up and feeling his face in amazement. His shirt was covered in blood still.

"When you spend most of your life shut away in your house, magic is the only thing to do, so I've been practicing since I was three. I've never done it with a wand though; it's more powerful."

I slid my wand away. Louis was looking at me, a bemused expression on his face. "What?" I demanded.

"Nothing, nothing!" he chuckled, holding up his hands. "Look, see, I brought your stuff."

"You ran with it?" I said in surprise, gathering up my packages.

"Yeah, of course. It wasn't so bad, I'm really athletic; I get it from my dad, I think. Come on, get up." For the second time that day, I was pulled to my feet by Louis.

I heard running behind me; I knew the sound, after hearing it for all my life, the desperate gasps that signaled terror and overexertion. Knowing who I would see, I turned around in time to confront Janice, who instantly began screaming at me, as expected.

"WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING LOVELLA; YOU KNOW NOT TO WANDER OFF ON YOUR OWN! YOU COULD HAVE BEEN HURT, YOU COULD HAVE BEEN CAPTURED, YOU COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED!" I flinched away from her a little, still terrified of her tirades after all these years. Witches and wizards were stopping to stare at us.

Then Janice rounded on Louis, as I had known she would. "AND YOU! WHY DID YOU TAKE LOVELLA AWAY FROM ME, YOU IRRESPONSIBLE LITTLE UPSTART! IF AURORS HAD GOTTEN THEIR HANDS ON HER, WOULD YOU HAVE BEEN ABLE TO PROTECT HER? I DON'T THINK SO, SO YOU JUST – "

"Janice." The calm voice made me sigh with relief, because Louis was looking murderous. Janice rounded on Ron and Harry, who had appeared behind her, but she fell silent at the looks on their faces. Ron's face was a thundercloud.

"I'll thank you not to yell at my nephew," he snapped, coming to stand beside Louis. "That girl knew better – "

"Ron!" Harry was glaring at his best friend. "Take Louis home."

Ron was breathing heavily. "Yeah thanks, I think I will do that. And I'll be having a word with his father too." Ron dragged Louis away, deaf to his protests.

Harry rubbed his scar. "Lovella, please don't do that again. Ron and I nearly had a heart attack trying to find you both. You know how it looked – "

I turned away, bitterness etched on my face. "Yeah, I know how it is," I said coldly. Ron had thought I'd dragged Louis off to kill him somewhere. Maybe Harry had too – his face looked as though he had just seen Louis's ghost.

Janice wrapped her arm around me, once again the comforting caretaker. "Anything else, Potter?" she said, her voice just as icy as mine. She had gone from being courteous to Harry to being downright bitter.

"See you on the first of September," he said briefly, before turning and walking away, his hands in his robe pockets. He Disapparated not far away, disappearing with a small pop.

"Come on, dear, let's get you home." We did not take the underground this time; Janice refused on the grounds that I had had a long day and she didn't want to make it longer with another tedious trip. Gathering up my packages, gripping my arm tightly, Janice also Disapparated, right in the middle of the witches and wizards who were still gaping at me. A painful, lung-bursting squeeze later and we were standing outside my house. It was no home to me, merely a place to stay, for I wanted nothing more then to escape the hovel forever.

The front and back garden were both overgrown, one of the windows broken by a flying rock, sent by Muggle boys who enjoyed seeing Janice hurrying into the street and screaming at them. I always watched from inside, gazing at the Muggles in fascination. Thick black curtains hid the inside of the house from view; hid me from view.

Now she hurried my things and me inside, repairing the window with a wave of her wand. "They never give up," she sighed, ripping open the package that contained my new robes. She laughed over my story of Madame Malkin forgetting where her supplies were in my presence. It was the first time she ever laughed over one of my stories, the first time I ever told her something that she didn't already know, since we were usually (metaphorically) attached at the hip. She examined my wand; her mouth was set into a hard line as she did so, and she laid it aside rather quickly.

Finally, Janice pointed to the last package, the one that contained my Eclipse. "What is that?"

Reverently, I pulled out the broom and showed it to her. "Louis bought it for me," I said quietly as Janice examined every aspect of it. Her mouth went into a hard line again, but she said nothing, merely handing the broom back to me and instructing, "Don't let the Muggles see you flying it."

I nodded as Janice went into the other room to prepare supper. Quietly, I stole outside, the Eclipse still in my hands. I mounted it, and it shivered in my grip, as though anticipating the takeoff.

I pushed off against the ground and watched it disappear beneath me. I zoomed in and out of the clouds, soaking myself to the skin but enjoying the beautiful summer evening. Everything seemed to have gone perfectly today; I had been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, made a friend, and received a superb broomstick. It mattered very little about my wand at the moment because, after all, a wand was just a wand, right? It was merely a tool to be used, it was never a part of me. Never that.

The next two weeks of summer seem to drag by. I went flying on most afternoons, merely to relieve myself of the intense feelings of boredom. I liked perusing my schoolbooks too; Transfiguration seemed to be the most interesting, and I studied the diagrams intently, hoping to get ahead of my year mates, hoping that if they saw how smart I was, they would forget about my father.

Of course, the dreams always besieged me by night. Since I was small, dreams of the high-pitched cackle that was my father's voice terrorized me. I saw his snake-like face clearly in my mind; it seemed impossible, because I had been a mere two days old when he perished at the hands of Harry Potter, but I could remember every thing about his face in sickening detail. Then I heard the soft, sweet sobbing; a woman, always the same woman, crying out in terror before that fatal spell was cast, and I knew I saw my mother then, seconds before my father killed her. Her face was never clear.

Yet these dreams could not help me to discover who my mother was. No one knew. She had been a secret, hidden by Voldemort since my birth and beyond. Despite how many Death Eaters had been questioned over the years, trying to discover who could, who possibly would, have a child with Voldemort, there had never been any luck; Voldemort had kept her absolutely secret.

And I had no hope of finding her either; she had perished at the hands of my monster-father, like so many other witches and wizards. I wished I could find her; I wanted to know if she had loved me, if she had loved my father, and why she would have had a child with him. I wasn't aware of any witch that would have done the same.

Of course, I wasn't without company in those two weeks. I had Janice and, more importantly, I now had an almost-constant stream of owl mail from Louis. He told me all about Hogwarts, as much as he could, he told me all about our professors and excitedly recounted Quidditch games in which he narrowly avoided being belted by a Bludger, making spectacular catches of the Quaffle by his fingertips. I read his letters, slightly in awe of everything that he had done. I had never even seen a full-blown game of Quidditch.

But the time came, in one way quicker then I would have like. I had never been away from home for such an extended period; I had no idea what to expect. I was excited, yes, but very scared. I packed my trunk with my new robes and cauldron and everything I would need for the year; my broomstick I had to leave lying forlornly on my bed. Janice would care for it until I came back for Christmas break.

We were forced to take the Underground again, to reach King's Cross. I decided that I didn't like the Underground; it was noisy, crowded, and often smelled. Plus, people stared. It wasn't like being in Diagon Alley, or the Ministry, where people knew that my father was a mass murderer; no, this staring had more to do with the fact that I had a cage with Kit, my miniature Puffskein, sitting on my lap, and it would occasionally squeak. Janice had bought my new pet the day we went to Diagon Alley, unbeknownst to me at the time.

Once past the Underground, Janice fetched a trolley. A brief run later and the dead-sure feeling that I was going to collide with the platform wall, we arrived on Platform Nine and three-quarters.

Janice helped me load my trunk onto the hissing scarlet train before turning to me. She crushed me in a big hug, her eyes watering. "Now if you need me this year, for anything at all, send me an owl, understand? And don't let those kids tease you. You're better then any of them."

I nodded, biting my lip, and Janice hustled me onto the train. I waved to her frantically, until the train pulled away and I could no longer see my aunt. I was off to Hogwarts.

I turned around, slightly intimidated by the people behind me, who were staring at me. I marched off to find an empty compartment. Maybe I could find Louis somewhere.

I hadn't gone far when I was hailed by a familiar voice. I turned around and was delighted to see Louis rushing towards me, still clutching a cage containing a Boreal owl.

"Lovella!" he exclaimed, pounding me on the back. I winced; I would be bruised there tomorrow.

"Hi Louis," I muttered, noticing people whispering at the sound of my name. I blushed hard.

Louis glanced around and waved them off, slinging his arm around my shoulders again. "Don't worry about them. C'mon, I have a compartment, my sister and Teddy are with us, I can introduce you."

"Um, who?" I asked nervously.

"Oh, yeah, right. Well, let's see, Teddy's a fourth-year Gryffindor, and my sister, Victoire, she's a third-year Gryffindor. We're all sort of in a row. My other sister, Dominique, will be starting here next year."

"And you're – a second-year Gryffindor?" I asked, already dreading the answer.

"Yep! 'Where dwell the brave at heart!'" Louis glanced at me, suddenly realizing what I meant. "Er, this is our compartment, come on." He pulled me inside. Already there was a beautiful girl, her hair long and spun moonbeams, just like Louis's. She sat primly, her beautiful face animated only when she spoke to the boy next to her. I glanced at this boy, who must be Teddy Lupin, but his most distinguishing characteristic was that he had no constant one. He seemed to be constantly morphing his face. How he was doing it without a wand I had no idea.

"Teddy, Victoire, this is Lovella. I told you about her, remember?"

Teddy and Victoire broke off their conversation, looking surprised at being interrupted. I had a feeling that Louis was pretty left out when these two were talking.

"Ah yes, the Riddle girl." I couldn't tell if Victoire meant this as an insult or a mere statement of fact. Her tone was only mildly interested. Teddy, however, turned away from me. He wouldn't look at me, no matter how hard I stared at him, determinedly talking to Victoire as though his life depended on it.

Louis didn't seem bothered, but he didn't yet recognize the signs as I did; Teddy was scared of me, or he hated me. The long trip passed in almost perpetual silence on my part. Many people came to visit, including Louis and Victoire's first-year cousin, Fred, and that sometimes broke the monotony silence.

He seemed enthusiastic to greet me, excited that we may be in the same House. I didn't dare tell him that there was no chance.

Louis seemed uneasy about mentioning the Sorting as well. We all knew that I stood no chance of being in Fred's House, which would undoubtedly be Gryffindor. It wasn't until the lamps came on and we began changing into our robes that Louis mentioned it.

"Is there any chance of you being in Gryffindor?" he asked tentatively.

I laughed bitterly. "After who my father was? You know these things go in families, Louis."

"But no one knows who your mother is," Louis argued.

"True," I said with a small shrug. "But do you honestly think Voldemort would have anything less then a pureblood wife? And most purebloods, if you haven't noticed, trickle into Slytherin house. So my mother was probably Slytherin as well."

Louis was silent after that. He was silent until we reached Hogwarts. Then he turned and said, "Good luck," before disappearing into the crowd headed to the castle in the carts. I turned to face the lake and the amazing castle beyond. It was lit with a million twinkling lights, and I was in awe of the immense size of it. Surely, if I could find my place in the Wizarding world anywhere, it would be here?

I was silent as we climbed into the boats. Fred was with me, grinning from ear-to-ear, along with a boy by the name of Jerry Maris who Fred enthusiastically introduced as his best friend. Another girl hurried into our boat after us. I couldn't see her face in the dark, and I was more then happy to let Fred and Jerry talk. Both were sure they were going0 to be in Gryffindor.

"How do you two know each other?" I asked as the boats floated away from the dock.

"My father works with his," Jerry explained.

"Ah, but what he's not saying is that his dad works for mine," Fred grinned. Jerry thwacked him in the back of the head. "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes," Fred explained to my blank look.

I tried to remember. The name did strike a chord in me…

Fred sighed and pulled something out of his pocket. A beaming red-haired man – missing an ear – was on the front of a colorful pamphlet. The picture moved, as all do in the Wizarding world. A shop stood behind the man, flashing the luminescent sign _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes._

"My dad George started the shop with my uncle, his twin brother Fred. When Uncle Fred was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts, Dad continued the shop with Uncle Ron's help, for a little while. Dad and my mom – Angelina Johnson – own the shop jointly now."

"That's cool," I said, teasing the pamphlet out of Fred's grip. "So you were named after your uncle?"

"Yeah." Fred looked like he wanted to lean back in the boat, but if he did he would topple into the dark water. "My dad still visits his grave almost every day. They were really close." I looked through some of the products George Weasley sold. They were a wide variety of magical joke tricks, even some serious Defense charms.

I handed the pamphlet back to Fred as we bumped softly against the opposite bank. The castle now loomed directly overhead. The first years followed Hagrid, the enormous, aging grounds keeper into the front hall. The inside was incredible, but I was past noticing it now. I knew in a few moments that I would be sitting with the Slytherins, and I didn't like the prospect.

A young man stuck his head out of an antechamber. Seeing them, he stepped into the open, revealing deep, navy blue robes. He beamed at them.

"Welcome, first years! I'm Professor Calisto, the Transfiguration teacher here at Hogwarts, and Deputy Headmaster. This way, come on! Oh Hagrid, by the way." The professor suddenly swung around to face Hagrid, who glanced back at him, surprised.

"Professor Bletchley was wondering if you could procure some Erklings for his fourth year class tomorrow. He's sorry to ask so late, as you have your own lessons to attend to. However…"

They exchanged a knowing look and Hagrid nodded. "Reckon I can ge' some."

"Thank you, Hagrid." The doors swung shut and we were shepherded into the antechamber. We all stared around, looking nervous. Professor Calisto had disappeared. I could not see the girl who had rode with us on the boat, but Fred and Jerry stood nearby, cracking jokes to the benefit of those around us. No one was really laughing, but everyone seemed to appreciate the light atmosphere Fred and Jerry were trying to create.

"Quiet, please." Professor Calisto had returned. Everyone instantly fell silent. "Now, the Great Hall is just through here. The feast will begin momentarily, but first you must be Sorted into the Houses of Hogwarts. There are four, representing the founders; Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. You all have contributions to make to these noble Houses, and any positive contributions will result in House points. The House with the most points wins the House Cup at the end of term. Of course, rule-breaking will result in the deductions of these points."

Professor Calisto rolled up his wide sleeves. "Well, this way then." We shuffled after him, eager to see the Great Hall. It was just as beautiful as I had imagined, with the enchanted ceiling above showing a clear night. I hardly noticed the House tables until we were nearing the front of the room. However, all eyes were on the first years as we filed up to a creaky stool, on top of which sat a patched hat, slightly burnt and very old. Much to my astonishment, it began to sing in an old, creaky voice.

_I am the Hogwart's Sorting Hat_

_For hundreds of years I have,_

_Split you into Houses_

_Based on your personality!_

_You may go to Gryffindor_

_Who are brave beyond compare._

_Chivalry and courage_

_Are just an everyday fair!_

_Or maybe to fine Ravenclaw_

_Who prize intelligence and sense._

_Those Ravenclaw's may even beat me_

_Though I'm a thousand and three_

_Kind Hufflepuff, sweet Hufflepuff_

_They are just and loyal._

_You will never meet a Hufflepuff afraid of toil_

_And in Slytherin, from fen_

_You may find true friends _

_Never was a Slytherin_

_Afraid to use any means_

_To achieve their ends_

_So first years, you are in good hands_

_Try me on, and I will show you where you truly belong_

_However, as I Sort you,_

_Contemplate this;_

_A House divided cannot stand_

_And thus obey my command_

_Learn to pull together_

_Lest everything fall apart_

_Now is the time, my song is done_

_At least for this year_

_Try me on, don't be afraid_

_For Sorting was what I was made!_

There was loud clapping, and then the Great Hall fell silent once again. I was shaking. In a few moments, I would be pronounced a Slytherin, and be forced to sit at their table. I glanced over at them; they looked mean, and they leered at some of the first years.

Professor Calisto was unrolling a large scroll of parchment. "Abernathy, Ferdinand!" The boy walked forward slowly and slipped the hat on over his head. It took a moment; finally "RAVENCLAW!" One of the tables erupted into cheers; I was too blinded by fear to see which. The Sorting continued; every time I advanced a step forward in line, I thought I would faint from fear. My breath came in gasps.

"Fasler, Alfred!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Kelsh, Garrett!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Ladner, Michelle!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Maris, Jerry!" I watched as Jerry went up. He seemed confident, flashing Fred a big grin before the Sorting Hat slid over his face, obscuring his features. It had only been there a moment –

"GRYFFINDOR!" The far table erupted in cheers.

Suddenly, I noticed the girl from our boat standing beside me. I wondered if she had been there the entire time, before deciding that she must have been. I was too nervous to notice. I was next.

"Riddle, Lovella!"

I walked up, trying to appear calm and confident, even though I was anything but. I saw Louis glance at me before the Hat slid over my eyes.

_Ah! A Riddle,_ it spat. _The last Riddle I came into contact with tried to burn me. _I felt shame run through me.

Suddenly, the Sorting Hat seemed interested. _What is this? Are you truly Tom Riddle's daughter? A mind…so different from his…_I saw the image flash before my eyes of when I healed Louis after accidently injuring him. _Riddle never healed. He never helped. Who are you?_

Summoning my courage I thought, _Not Voldemort. Not Tom. Just Lovella. _

_Yes, yes, obviously. Perhaps you have _benefited_ from being away from your father, and have other people bring you up. _Janice flashed before my eyes. _Where to put you, my dear?_

_Yes, yes!_ the Hat suddenly exclaimed. _I know where to put you!_ And then it shouted out to the entire Hall; "GRYFFINDOR!"

I slid the Hat off, dazed. The entire Hall was staring at me in shock.

**Thanks for reading. Please review. Instructive criticism is my best friend, but burns will be deleted. **


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